


words to a spanish sweetheart

by emryses



Series: conversations between inmates [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Canon-typical language, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Episode: s09e06 Face It You're Gorgeous, Post-Episode: s09e14 Found, Relationship Discussions, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 20:47:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18147227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emryses/pseuds/emryses
Summary: Leaving Mickey on the border was the hardest thing Ian has ever done in his entire life. And the second he watched Mickey cross that line, he had regretted ever saying no.Except then he got the call that Monica had died.See how complicated this shit is?





	words to a spanish sweetheart

**Author's Note:**

> and I thought I was done with this series...  
> not beta'd.  
> kind constructive criticism always welcome!

Ian can't stop thinking about Fiona.

He's thinking about her happy, and smiling, somewhere warm, with some guy who treats her well. Hell, or no guy at all. Just Fiona being happy, only making decisions for herself, taking care of herself with no one else in mind. Ian's so fucking happy for her, he thinks he might cry just thinking about it.

But in typical younger sibling fashion, he's  _so fucking jealous_.

***

"Fiona visited me today," Ian tells Mickey at dinner.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, she uh — she said she came into a lot of money," he shovels whatever sort of food they've been given today into his mouth, "Said she wanted to leave town."

Mickey nods, also eating, "What did you tell her?"

Ian looks down at his tray, "I told her to go. I told her to get the fuck out."

Mickey grunts. They fall into a relatively comfortable silence, but Ian knows what they're both thinking about, what they're picturing. Warm weather, tequila, Ian smeared in sunscreen because Mickey is right: he does burn like a motherfucker.

"Fiona also said she wants a picture of you working in the laundry," Ian says after they're finished, flashing a shit-eating grin Mickey's way.

"Fuck you is what she's getting," Mickey shoots back, and Ian can only laugh. He wishes he could kiss Mickey, right here in the cafeteria, but he can't. That will have to wait until lights out. In the meantime, he playfully shoves at Mickey's shoulder, and he gets a chuckle in return.

***

Ian can't stop thinking about Mexico.

On one hand, he doesn't regret it a single bit. Logically, he knows going to Mexico would have ruined so many things. There's no guarantee that Mickey wouldn't have been found, Ian has no clue how he would have gotten his meds, and knowing what he's like when he's manic, he would have royally fucked everything up, and probably ended up hurting Mickey in the process.

Ian would never admit this to Mickey, but he knows he couldn't leave his family like that. Ian doesn't think he could just pick up and leave everyone. He used to: when he was young, dreaming of being an officer in the army. When he did take off that winter, he didn't miss his family all that much, but he thinks part of that had to do with the mania setting in.

The other hand is, though, that Ian couldn't fathom just picking up and leaving Mickey. He's done it before, yeah, but it was never easy. He thinks he broke something that existed between them when he didn't go with Mickey across the border. That last little shred of trust that held the two of them together. It wasn't Ian breaking up with Mickey on his front lawn, it wasn't him lying and saying he'd wait for Mickey when he knew he couldn't. It was Ian saying, "let's ride" and believing it until he couldn't anymore.

***

"One day we are going to go somewhere where it's hot," Ian says to Mickey.

They're doing a crossword together. Because apparently, they've jumped from being two horny teenagers to two ninety-year-old men.

"Where are we going to go that's going to let me in?" Mickey laughs.

Ian shrugs, "You'll be able to go to another state someday," he says, fiddling with the pen in his hand. He's not so good at these crosswrods. Mickey, though, to put it in his own words: "rules these crosswords like they're my bitch."

"Yeah?" Mickey huffs out, "Where are we going to go?"

"I don't know. Florida. Los Angeles. Anywhere we want, remember?"

Mickey nods, "Yeah. Anywhere we want," he agrees softly.

They scribble down a few more answers in the crossword.

"I wanted to live in Mexico with you," Ian whispers. He can still picture it, how he use dto dream it. Mickey, tanned, wearing shorts and his homemade muscle shirts. In his dreams they would lay together in the sand, live in a beach house, take in stray animals or some shit like that.

Mickey shakes his head gently, "Let's not talk about that right now," he says. He's not really shutting Ian down, it's just a bookmark for later. Another time.

"Twenty-four down," Mickey says, "Words to a Spanish sweetheart," he takes the pen from Ian's hand, goes to write down the answer.

"What is it?" Ian asks, breathless.

Mickey turns, looks Ian directly in the eye. "Te amo."

Ian tries his best not to blush.

***

It isn't all perfect. They're living in prison, and there are literal dangers all around them. They can't really be  _together_ -together, that's way too dangerous. The fact that Mickey has Ian's name tattooed on his body has caused way too many issues with homophobic  assholes, and Ian has lost count how many times he's had to pull Mickey away from literally murdering someone in the shower.

Sometimes, they're just in bad moods, and they take it out on each other. They've always had an issue with doing that. Ian's meds may fall out of balance every now and then, he might wake up with a headache, or have to deal with people in the hospital. Mickey literally washes blood, shit, puke, and probably jizz out of clothes in the laundry, and that's bound to put anyone in a bad mood.

Mickey tends to stay quiet, where Ian wants to talk. Mickey has always been bad at letting Ian into his mind, and Ian's always been scared to let Mickey into his. It's something that he's vaguely aware of, their bad communication skills. But it's not like they can ask for fucking couples therapy. Neither of them would even know where to begin to get "healthy communication methods" or whatever.

So sometimes, they fight. It's never physical, the last thing either of them wants is to be split up and given new cellmates. But they'll wake up in pissy moods, and snap at each other as they're getting ready. It was worse then they were both working in the laundry because then they never got a break from one another. It's better now that they can spend some time apart, and still come back to their cell again.

Ian tends to be insensitive when they fight, and Mickey loves to bring up the past. He loves to remind Ian of all the guys he sucked off while they were together, or the amount of times that he's up and left Mickey. His favourite seems to be the border. Mickey knows exactly how to twist the knife to make Ian sit in his own guilt for hours on end.

What Mickey doesn't seem to understand is that leaving him on the border had been the hardest thing Ian has ever done in his entire life. And the second he watched Mickey cross that line, he had regretted ever saying no.

Except then he got the call that Monica had died.

See how complicated this shit is?

***

About a month after Fiona's visit, Ian gets a letter from her in the mail. It's very brief, but at least Ian knows where she ended up. He reads it to Mickey after dinner, who smiles gently, watching Ian carefully.

"She seems happy," Mickey says.

Ian nods. "Yeah, I think she is. Gets to be somewhere warm, in the sun."

Mickey hums, moving to grab something off the bunk above them. A book, maybe? They keep a lot of shit up there. It's not like Ian sleeps on it a lot.

Ian stands, wandering a little, as much as he can in their cell. "She's probably got a tan," he says, leaning against the wall across from their bunks.

"The sun will do that to ya," Mickey returns, turning to look at Ian, questioning him with a look.

"I wanted to—" Ian starts to say, again, but Mickey cuts him off by raising his hand in the air, shaking his head a bit. Ian rolls his eyes.

Mickey wrings his hands together, letting out a sigh, "Ian, I ain't mad about Mexico," he pauses briefly. Ian raises an eyebrow.  _Seriously?_ Mickey must be able to read the disbelief on his face because he finishes with, "Anymore."

Ian laughs, in spite of the gut-wrenching guilt he feels.

"You need to — you need to let yourself off the hook, yeah?" Mickey says, "That's the only way we're going to make this shit work."

Ian squares his jaw, "Okay, then you need to stop throwing all the shit I've done back in my face."

Mickey flushes, embarrassed, "Yeah, I know. Sorry."

Ian nods, moving his gaze to the floor, "I feel like shit about what I put you through. Like, all the time. It's hard for me to let that go, especially when you use it as an attack," Ian admits. Mickey is suggesting he just  _forgets_ about everything? Like it's that fucking easy, like Mickey doesn't know what self-hatred is. (They both know he does.)

"If I hadn't left you at the border we wouldn't be here right now," Ian whispers.

"We don't know that," Mickey says.

Ian feels like he does, though.

"There's us then, and then there's us now," Mickey says, testing the waters, "I think I'd kinda like to focus on the us now, if you don't fuckin mind."

"Us then is important to the us now, don't you think?" Ian counters.

"Yeah, but..." Mickey rails off searching for his words, "You feel guilty, yeah okay, but you seem to like to use that guilt as a way to tell me that it's okay if I leave," Mickey pauses again, making sure Ian's looking him in the eye, "I'm not fuckin' leaving you, Ian."

"And I'm not leaving you," Ian immediately says back.

Mickey spreads his arms out in a way that just reads:  _well, here we fucking are, then._ Mickey walks towards him, settling his hands on Ian's waist.

"So can you stop with all this 'poor me' shit? It's fuckin' annoying, and also there's no need," Mickey squeezes at Ian's waist, pulling him closer, "What's done is done. It's all in the past. Officially. We're here now, we're where we wanna be, right?"

Ian smirks, "Well, literally—"

Mickey rolls his eyes, "Shut up and answer—"

"Yes, Mick, I'm where I want to be," Ian says, smiling down, giving Mickey a quick kiss.

"Don't have to be a fuckin' know-it-all," Mickey grumbles, walking away and settling back down into the bottom bunk.

"Yeah, I do," Ian tosses it back. Settles on the end of the bed by Mickey's feet.

Tonight, when Ian falls alseep, he hopes he dreams of sandy beaches and Mickey with tanned skin. He hopes when he wakes up he won't feel guilty about what he's done in the past. He hopes that one day when they're both outside of these cement walls, they can drive somewhere warm, and just be together.

He doesn't know how that will happen, but he knows they'll get there eventually.

**Author's Note:**

> I tend to write these in Ian’s POV because I like to try and figure out and rationalize some of the decisions that canon-Ian made. But I’m hoping one day I’m inspired to write (or even rewrite) some of these scenes from Mickey’s POV, if anyone would be interested in that. :)


End file.
